


When Harry met Kurt

by Reremouse (TheBelfry)



Category: Glee, Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Binding Magical Contract, Childhood Sweethearts, Geas, Give it a try, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Magical Accidents, Magical Marriage, Memory Alteration, fluffier than it sounds, not all fluffy though, not geese, tastes great less filling, year and a day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBelfry/pseuds/Reremouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kurt met Harry during his internship with Vivienne Westwood (sort of). Things happen, which Kurt isn't entirely clear on just yet. But getting married suddenly seemed to be the right thing to do. That's what happens when you befriend a boy wizard at the age of five and make impulsive promises over a play tea set in your grandmother's garden in Surrey.</p><p>Kurt/Harry, Blaine/Draco, Kurt+Blaine friendship, Harry+Draco friendship, and Klaine and Drarry endgames.</p><p>Warnings: Crossovers, wizards, weddings, exes, a year, a vow, sparks, complete destruction of timelines, and shameless gaying up of the Harry Potter universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Editing complete.

"I can't believe it," Kurt says, for possibly the fifteenth time in as many minutes (Blaine's not really counting, except he sort of is). "I'm finally the groom." He's frankly adorable the way his eyes shine looking around the venue.

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's waist and Kurt leans back into him. And because Kurt's ear is right there, and Blaine's resisted fourteen times already (he's not made of stone!) he murmurs, "And I can't believe I'm the Best Man."

Kurt sobers and starts to twist, but Blaine doesn't let him, giving him a squeeze to hold him in place and hooking his chin over his shoulder. "Blaine - "

He's going to apologize again, of course, which is ridiculous, so Blaine gives him a preemptive shake. "You're still my best friend. You're always my best friend. My best friend who has seen me naked and drunk and naked-drunk and had the hottest possible sex of my life with me, but that pretty much puts us in the gay majority, statistically speaking." He squeezes Kurt's shoulders. "No regrets."

Kurt takes a deep breath. "No regrets," he says, and his voice only trembles a little.

"Nervous?"

"No," Kurt says immediately. Then: "What if he changes his mind?"

"He won't change his mind," Blaine says patiently, because that's part of his duty as Best Man." (And as Second-Best Man, Santana's hopeless at that kind of thing.)

"What if he gets stuck in traffic?"

"He'll call."

"What if his family hates me?"

Blaine turns Kurt around to get a good look at his face. "His family are all dead," he reminds him.

"His friends - "

"Already think you're adorable."

Kurt raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"I don't see how anyone could think you weren't adorable," Blaine says with complete conviction. And, okay, maybe there is a tiniest of tiny (crushing) regrets he let Kurt get away. But since he's not sure he could have kept him if he'd tried, he's willing to let it go. (Unless and until Harry and Kurt break up and then all bets are off.) He guides Kurt to a chair and sits him down, keeping his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt looks up at him with utmost seriousness. "I don't think the word adorable is even in Severus' vocabulary."

Blaine snorts, because he's had proof otherwise. "Told you you shouldn't have left the bachelor party early."

Kurt stares at him in silence while Blaine smooths his already pristine lapels for the sake of something to do. "Seriously? He called me adorable?"

"Well," Blaine hedges. "Actually, he called me adorable."

The expression on Kurt's face is a priceless mixture of disbelief and the urge to laugh. "I didn't think you were his type."

"I'm not," Blaine says. "Or, at least, I don't think I am." There's a lot that's not all that clear from last night.

Blaine vows never to drink again.

Again.

"I never thought I'd be this nervous," Kurt says.

And honestly, Blaine never thought Kurt would be this nervous getting married, either. "Are you sure he's the one?" he asks again, because he's not just Best Man, he's Kurt's best friend.

Kurt meets his eyes, doesn't look any less nervous. "Completely," he says, more or less convincingly.

"Well, good." Blaine grabs Kurt's hands and pulls him to his feet. "Let's get you married, then."

 

 

 

The wedding was lovely. The bride looked delightful, even if he was the groom, and Draco is reasonably sure the happy couple will have a long and fruitful life together.

Et cetera.

He snags another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and drains half of it. "Manners, Draco," his mother's portrait murmurs over his shoulder through almost still lips.

Draco favors her with a raised eyebrow. "I believe it's traditional to get soused at the wedding of one's former lover," he says.

"Probably," Anderson agrees with that utterly annoying new world charm, wandering over to lean against the wall between Narcissa and Black. "The talking to yourself in a dim corner over a glass of champagne is admittedly a little weird, though."

Draco snorts, glancing at his mother to find her the very picture (ha) of aloof beauty. He nods to the portrait. "My mother," he says.

"So she's..." He sounds like he's not sure whether he's allowed to say the word 'dead' to a man he's only met a few times, and never sober.

Draco deeply regrets his sobriety now, but the man with the champagne is on the other side of the room, and he only had the foresight to grab a single glass. He drains it.

Then he saves Anderson from his indecision. "Dead, yes. They're all dead," he says with a sweeping gesture to include the silent and still portraits. "But it's not a wedding without the family. Mother," he says, "This is the unfortunately named Blaine Anderson. He's the groom's Best Man. Blaine Anderson, this was my mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

Blaine laughs. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy," he says with impeccable manners, and, Draco realizes with mild horror, a flirtatious glance in his direction. With any luck, he'll assume the twitch of his mother's lips is only a trick of the light.

And with a little more luck, his mother won't remember seeing it.

Draco has never been particularly lucky.

"Likewise, I'm sure," Draco says for her.

"Do you believe in cliches?" Anderson asks with an abrupt change of subject. At least, Draco hopes it's changing.

"Cliche is for the common man," he says.

Anderson tilts his head, poorly suppressing a smile. "Okay. So hooking up with the other groom's hot ex at the wedding is out." And before Draco can protest that this is no time to make hasty decisions _against_ giving in to cliche (hot? really?), Anderson is gesturing at the reception with his head. "Want to dance anyway?"

 _Yes_ , Draco doesn't say. And he'll kick himself later for drawling, "What makes you think I'm gay?" Because he's sure his mouth didn't consult any thinking part of him before asking that.

It's one of his few flaws.

Fortunately, Anderson seems to be favoring him with an expression of open amusement. "I wasn't imagining those sparks last night," he says.

"Oh, fine," he concedes. Because his unfortunate streak of being unable to resist ridiculously short optimists with absurd hair is not going to end anytime soon. And Anderson's suggestion does have some promise. "But the sparks were entirely in your imagination," he says, even though he rather hopes they weren't in spite of himself.

And that Anderson means the figurative 'attracted to one another' sparks - not the more literal kind.

He's not prepared to admit how little he remembers from last night.

"Got it," Anderson says with a ridiculous grin. "No sparks. Check."

 

 

If Kurt has mixed feelings watching Blaine dance with Draco, he seems to be the only one. "I realize," he admits to Harry over the crudites, "that I can't exactly expect Blaine to stay single forever, all things considered."

"Probably not," Harry agrees, eating a piece of licorice Kurt _knows_ wasn't on the table at any point tonight. He arranged everything with the caterers himself.

"You know, being a wizard doesn't make you exempt from diabetes and heart disease," he mutters under his breath. Granted, he's not sure if that's even true, but it sounds good.

"Bite?" Harry asks with the unrepentant charm Kurt can't seem to resist. "And I'm not wizarding now, am I? I'm a perfectly normal young man from England getting married to his fabulously stylish American boyfriend."

Kurt ignores that part, but only because he can't figure out how to say he wouldn't mind a little wizarding around the house here and there without anyone overhearing the ensuing argument. "No, thank you," Kurt says instead and virtuously takes a carrot stick. Returning to the topic of conversation just seems to be the wisest course of action here. "Isn't it a little..." Kurt waves his carrot stick and gropes for the right word, "crass for him to hook up with a hot blond at my wedding?"

"My ex," Harry says.

"Excuse me?"

"Malfoy. The bloke Blaine's dancing with. He's my ex-boyfriend."

And all Kurt can think of to say is, "And you didn't think to mention that before now?"

Harry slips his hands around Kurt's waist under his jacket. "Didn't seem important."

Kurt could argue the point, but it's kind of sweet that he honestly didn't think Draco posed any threat to Kurt whatsoever. He's still not entirely sure Blaine _wouldn't_ pose a threat to Harry. If he wasn't wrapped around a leggy blond in a manner (oh, fine) entirely appropriate for a wedding. Kurt closes his eyes. "This isn't always going to be easy, is it?"

"Probably not," Harry agrees.

"And it's not a happily ever after." Which is fine. Kurt doesn't really believe in those anymore. It's been a long time since he did.

"Not really," Harry says, like a man who never expected a happily ever after anyway.

"I suppose I should trust you, then."

"Probably," Harry agrees, standing on tip-toe to press their mouths together chastely. "Could be worse," he whispers into Kurt's mouth.

"You are reasonably attractive," Kurt allows, but only because Harry has already figured out it's Kurt's way of saying he's smoking hot in a scruffy way Kurt's not supposed to admit to admiring.

At least, he hopes Harry has.

"Oh, well, thanks for that." Harry bites into another piece of licorice that Kurt _knows_ was a carrot stick until the moment it left the tray.

Kurt narrows his eyes.

Harry smiles. Kurt is prepared to admit the smile epitomizes 'winsome'. Also, that there really were worse people he could be sharing this situation with.

"All right?" Harry asks under his breath.

Kurt inhales and opens his eyes, finding Harry's hand with his. "I think so."

"It's only a year," Harry reminds him, and Kurt isn't ready to examine the pang he feels. "After that, well..." he lets hang the unspoken _'it's up to you.'_.

Kurt appreciates that. "I can't do this if I think about it as only a year," he admits. "Until the end of the year, this is entirely real to me," he insists, and feels like such a bitch, the way Harry lights up. He frames his face with a hand and leans in to kiss him.

"The magic is binding, but you'll get used to it," Harry promises again.

"I am used to it," Kurt lies. "I haven't thought about it in weeks."

Harry doesn't call him on it this time, but Kurt appreciates the way Harry holds his hand.

 

 

 

"Only you, Potter."

"It's not like I woke up one morning at the age of five and thought _'This tea party is brilliant! I'm going to bind that boy in an unbreakable marriage vow over the next biscuit!'_ , you know?"

Severus snorts, unamused, so Harry knows he's actually laughing on the inside. And probably hating himself for it.

He suppresses a grin. "And anyway, we got along well enough when we met again last year. Wouldn't even have known there was a vow if it wasn't for Malfoy."

"Oh?" Severus raises an eyebrow.

Harry waves it off. "It's a Slytherin thing. He doesn't trust _anyone_."

"Rightly so," Severus says with evident approval. He would.

"So it turned out the only magic there was mine, which I wasn't actually expecting, mind you." Harry shrugs. "But stranger things have happened."

Usually to him, too.

"Nothing ruffles you, does it?" Severus asks with a studied lack of interest in the answer.

Harry laughs, because that seems the only appropriate answer. "Suppose not," he agrees. "And anyway, I lucked out, right? He's not a bad catch," he says, and does feel a little strange admitting that in front of Severus of all people. But what's the point in being the unruffleable, fearless Boy Who Lived on his wedding day if he can't say what he wants to whom he wants?

"I suppose," Severus admits. Grudgingly.

"That physically pained you to admit, didn't it?" Harry asks, pleased.

Severus presses his lips together, clearly against the urge to admit it doesn't pain him at all. In fact, the lack of pain is probably paining him, if nothing else. "It won't last, you know," he predicts. "As soon as the year is over, the both of you will wake up, part ways, and never see each other again."

"That's a depressing way of looking at the world."

Severus raises both eyebrows. "I've had little cause to look at the world differently."

"Liar," Harry says. Smugly. Severus' glare has no power over him anymore.

"Five points from Gryffindor for impertinence," Severus says, and doesn't quite succeed in suppressing his urge to smile.

"So where's Bill?" Harry asks, offhand.

Severus stares at him for a while before saying, eventually, "Iceland."

"Iceland? What's in Iceland?"

Severus shrugs. "Curses, evidently."

"And that's why you had time to floo over here and officiate at my wedding."

"Precisely," Severus agrees. "I simply had nothing better to do."

"Thanks, by the way."

Severus catches a flute of champagne from a passing tray and toasts Harry with it briefly. "May it give you both happiness."

"What's that?" Harry holds a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you."

"I am not repeating myself." Severus drains his drink. "Go be happy with your new husband, and stop bothering me."

"Got somewhere better to be?"

Severus' lips twist in a _blink and you'll miss it_ smirk. "Iceland."


	2. June 2019

Blaine never wished Kurt anything less than perfect happiness and a man who loved him as much as he deserves to be loved. (Even if Blaine has spent most of his adult life trying to become that man.) 

So it's not that. 

And he's not jealous anymore (much - he's over that - mostly). He's a grown adult who can accept Kurt's life choices and move forward with his own destiny. 

It's just that Harry is...kind of... Freakishly superpowered sometimes.

"I'll just get us some tea," Harry says, like the mind reader Blaine really hopes he isn't, leaving him and Kurt alone on the couch. 

"He really is English, isn't he?" is what Blaine ends up asking. 

Kurt raises his eyebrows, like Blaine is adorable and ridiculous, and Blaine feels only slightly guilty for basking in it. "Did the accent tip you off?" Kurt asks.

"You can fake an accent," Blaine says. "But you can't fake that kind of need for tea in every awkward moment." 

"Is this an awkward moment?" Kurt asks, and by that, they both understand what Kurt's actually asking him is whether Blaine's going to make it an awkward moment. They've had a few of those since the wedding, because One of Blaine's superpowers is awkward moments around people who are not him but who are or have been intimate with Kurt Hummel, but it's nothing they can't all survive. 

Blaine crosses his legs, folds his hands over his knee, and settles on: "How awkward can a moment be when there's tea on the horizon?" 

"Not very," Harry says like a man who knows what he's talking about. "Wasn't sure what you took in your tea," he says by way of explanation of the tray, and pauses. "Actually, d'you even drink tea?" It hasn't come up yet. 

"He drinks tea," Kurt assures his husband, and then glances at Blaine with his lips tightening in the suppressed smile he gets when he's trying not to flaunt their in-jokes. "Under protest." 

"Nonsense," Blaine says, even though it's true. He'd rather be drinking coffee, but he's still incapable of not being polite to a fault, even when he's being a little awkward. Fortunately, he's been repeatedly reassured it all adds to his personal charm. "Just lemon, thanks," he says, and doesn't make any comments to the effect that Harry seems to be the fastest maker of tea Blaine has encountered in his entire life. He's pretty sure water doesn't actually boil that fast and includes it in Harry's ever growing list of strange superpowers. 

"It was already on the hob," Harry says in that creepy 'Hi, I'm reading your mind' way. 

Blaine deliberately thinks about Kurt. Naked. That time they found the secluded little river bend and spent the afternoon giving each other some of the quietest but most intense orgasms they'd ever experienced.

Blaine's ears burn at the tips.

Harry doesn't even look up from pouring Kurt's tea. 

But the room is a little too hot now, and Blaine concedes the possibility that there must have been a less stimulating way to test Harry's potential mind-reading powers. He clears his throat, blinks away the after images, and takes a cautious sip of tea. 

And now Kurt's looking at him with raised eyebrows, but Blaine's never doubted Kurt's mind-reading abilities, so that's okay. "How's Draco?" Kurt asks, with his usual impeccable timing, and Blaine tries to hate him a little. 

He's not Kurt is how Draco is. And neither one of them is thinking long term, but..."Sarcastic, fashionable, oddly sexually adventurous once you get past the frigid shell, and emotionally incomprehensible as ever." 

Blaine has a type. 

"Sounds like him," Harry agrees comfortably, and Blaine has a disconcerting moment of realizing he and Harry appear to have the same type. 

"Where is he anyway?" Kurt asks. "I thought he was coming with you." 

It's a good question, and Blaine recalls Draco telling him, but the rest is fuzzy. "I - huh. Sorry, I guess I wasn't paying attention when he said. He's meeting us at dinner." 

Harry gives him another one of those funny looks, and Blaine reminds himself firmly that Harry cannot read minds.

"You know where we have the reservations, right?" Blaine asks. "Because, um, I'm not sure I do."

"Malfoy," Harry says as soon as Draco answers the phone. 

He should have known. Well, actually, he did know. "Hello, Potter. To what do I owe the honor?" 

"Are you obliviating Blaine?" Potter's never been one to take the circuitous route. 

"Of course not, Potter," Draco says. "That would be illegal. And immoral. And wrong." 

"So, are you obliviating Blaine?" Potter asks, because he is just that infuriating, and it's things like this that are bound to make any possibility of a lasting relationship between them highly unlikely.

"No," Draco says with the offended forcefulness of a man who wouldn't dream of obliviating his boyfriend. "What do you take me for?" 

"Using a charm then," Harry says comfortably. 

"No!" 

"Cursed object?" 

He is, in fact, using an object under something which may or may not be termed a curse. But it's not as if it's doing Blaine any harm. Can it really be called a cursed object if it's not hurting anyone? "Define 'cursed'," Draco says. 

Harry sighs. "Malfoy..." 

"Don't start, Potter," Draco says, and winces when it comes out more snippy than he intended. "You lost your right to meddle in the affairs of dragons when you married your childhood sweetheart." 

"Did you honestly just say 'meddle in the affairs of dragons' in reference to yourself?" 

Now that Harry points it out, Draco wishes he hadn't. He chooses to pretend he didn't. "It's for his own good. I can't very well tell him I'm off to the Wizarding Embassy every morning, can I?" He privately suspects Harry thinks he actually could tell Blaine that. It's an old argument, though, and apparently, neither one of them feels like rehashing it. 

"What on earth does he think you do?" Harry asks. 

"Some kind of cultural attache position," Draco says, though he's foggy on the details himself. It is a cursed object, after all, and they tend not to come with instructions. "You do realize you'll have to obliviate Hummel when it all goes pear shaped for the two of you, I hope?" he asks instead. It inevitably will go pear shaped. 

"I don't plan to obliviate anyone," Harry says after a moment's hesitation. 

"Leaving it to me to do it for you again, I suppose," Draco says, possibly unfairly. It was only the once. 

"It was only once, Malfoy," Harry says. "Once." 

"Ingrate." Draco sniffs, because winding Harry up never gets old. 

"I still don't understand it," Harry says. 

"You'll have to define 'it'," Draco says, never one to commit to an answer before he's heard the question. 

"What you see in Blaine." 

"Fantastic arse, decent conversationalist, not half bad on the eyes. Terrible dancer, but you can't have everything." And Draco will never admit it out loud, but Blaine's impromptu serenades turn him on more than he would have expected. 

"He's a Muggle." 

Draco gasps. "Harry Potter! Are you suggesting I should discriminate against Muggles?" 

Harry snorts on the other end of the phone and dissolves into helpless snickers. 

"Pillock," Draco says. 

"Prat," Harry answers, so fondly it makes Draco's chest ache. He presses a hand to it as if that could make it stop. 

It makes him honest. "He's not you," Draco admits quietly. "But I can't have you, can I?" 

"Draco..." That's all Harry says, and Draco doesn't want to finish that sentence in his mind. There are too many ways it could go terribly wrong. 

"I do like him," Draco says instead. "Genuinely. And he likes me. And neither of us is under any illusion we're each other's first choices." 

"You should tell him it's only for a year," Harry says, and that's new. Harry admitting it. 

"I will not," Draco says instead. "You started this mess, and you are the only one who will be explaining it and dealing with the aftermath. I wash my hands of it." 

"I miss you," Harry admits, and Draco wishes he wouldn't. 

"Behave yourself, Potter," Draco says, and hangs up on him. And then, to nobody in particular: "You're a married man."

"I'm a married man," Kurt says. 

"Believe me when I say I'm still asking myself how that happened." Blaine admits, carding his fingers through Kurt's hair. It's completely platonic (even if it has the potential not to be), and there's nothing wrong with it.

And it feels nice. "Sometimes, I don't know, myself," Kurt says, because he can't say, 'Um, apparently, when you fall in love with a child wizard and promise to marry him some day, it's not the easiest promise to break.' He knows he can't; he's tried. And it freaks him out a little more each time, so he tries not to go there. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." 

He doesn't want Blaine to ask if it's still a good idea. 

"Do you love him?" Blaine asks. 

Kurt's relieved. It's a much easier question to answer. "I do. It's hard not to." Like it's hard not to love Blaine, and honestly, what is his life? "Weren't we watching Project Runway?" 

"It ended about twenty minutes ago," Blaine says. 

What? 

"You looked too comfortable to wake you up." 

"Tell me you DVRed it," Kurt says, because he will not be held responsible for any consequences if Blaine didn't. 

Blaine sets the remote on his chest with a grin. "Of course I did, dummy."

Kurt closes his hand over it and returns Blaine's smile. "I love you, Blaine Anderson." 

"Careful," Blaine says, "you're a married man." 

Kurt snorts and bursts into laughter. "Oh my god, how did we become these people?" 

"Who? These people from one of those ridiculous sitcoms where everyone changes partners every three episodes?" Blaine asks. "Personally, I blame glee club." 

Kurt has to admit the idea has some merit. And he finds himself moderately horrified by it. "This changes now," he says with absolute seriousness. 

Blaine laughs. "I hardly think flirting with your one serious ex-boyfriend is going to put you in Sam territory." 

"I'd rather not chance it," Kurt says, well aware of his hypocrisy in cuddling closer. Blaine is, and will always be, comfort. "Now back up to the part where Tim told them to swap projects." 

"I thought you were awake for that part." 

"I was," Kurt says. "I want to see the broken look on Maximilian's face again." 

"Never let it be said Kurt Hummel holds a grudge." 

"My design, Blaine. He used one of my designs in his Project Runway audition tape. I have every right to hold a grudge." Kurt lifts his chin and rewinds the show. "Did he get eliminated tonight?" 

"Almost," Blaine says. 

"Have the judges gone blind? Look at it, Blaine. It's held together with tape. Tape."

"It gets better." Blaine twists around on the couch to face him with a grin, bouncing them both when he lands. "Tim's coming in again after the next commercial to tell them all they have to do their models' hair and make-up, too. All by themselves." 

"No!" 

"Yes!" 

"Oh my god. Tell me he's humiliated." 

"Utterly and completely - Heidi emasculates him," Blaine promises. Kurt punches him in the shoulder. "Ow!" 

"You let me sleep through that?" 

"I DVRed it," Blaine points out, wounded. "You love me for that." 

Kurt sighs and settles in, pushing play on the remote. Because he really does love Blaine for that, and for so much more. "I do," he admits. "Now shh. Tim is about to crush his spirit."

It's been a long time since Harry's believed in keeping quiet to keep the peace. He's more or less certain he's the only one who's going to broach this subject. So he does. And, all right, he does after rolling over to wrap himself around Kurt, but a man deserves a little comfort when he's saying, "This isn't working, is it?"

Kurt settles his arms around him and nestles his cheek in his hair. "It is right now," he says after a tactful moment. Harry appreciates the tact, and has to actually agree that, right now, this is nice. "Not everyone gets to marry their childhood sweetheart." 

"I think most childhood sweethearts are a bit older," Harry says. "And stay in touch more." 

"It's my understanding you were fighting for the survival of the entire world," Kurt says, apparently much more comfortable in the idea than a Muggle ought to be. "As excuses go," he says, "it's valid." 

"I could be making it all up to hide what an utter bastard I am," Harry feels the need to point out. 

Kurt raises his eyebrows. 

As skepticism goes, it's far less cutting than Snape and less sarcastic than Draco. Harry's a connoisseur of skeptical looks and sarcastic asides. Or maybe just a verbal masochist. "Fine. I'm not. I saved the bloody world before my eighteenth birthday. It wasn't just a pick up line." 

"That's my honey," Kurt says, a little breathlessly. Harry's not exactly going to say it makes saving the world worth it because, well, the entire world. But he can't deny it's nice. 

Draco doesn't get breathless when Harry talks about saving the world. 

It occurs to Harry that thinking about Draco while he's in bed with, well, his husband isn't exactly tactful. He licks his lips and glances at Kurt, who's looking back at him with an expression Harry can't quite read. 

He entertains the brief (incredibly paranoid) thought that Kurt might actually be able to read minds. 

Kurt passes a hand from Harry's ribs down to his hip. "I always suspected saving the world was the ultimate workout," he says with the kind of directness and shimmy Harry's pretty sure he could fall completely in love with. If, well, they say you can't choose love. 

"Wouldn't recommend it," Harry says, but doesn't stop him either. 

They are married for another eight months, after all.

Might as well make the best of it, right?


	3. January 2020

 

 

"You're thinking about him," Kurt says with a surprising lack of jealousy. (Well, surprising to him.)

Harry just looks guilty. "Am not." It's possible he's the worst liar in the history of the world, and it's entirely possible that every single thought he has shows plainly on his face.

"How on earth did you actually survive a war?" Kurt asks, sitting next to him on the couch.

"Luck, mostly," Harry says with a shrug, like it mystifies him, too. Kurt has to admit the modesty doesn't get less adorable over time. If it is modesty. If it's true inept luck, well, god help him, but that's adorable, too.

Kurt shakes his head. "Your face," is all he can think to say.

Harry gives him a curious look. "No. Your face."

Kurt laughs. "That doesn't even make sense."

Harry shrugs. "Didn't make much sense when you said it, either," he says, and they're getting off the topic.

"We're getting off the topic," Kurt says.

"Was there a topic?" Harry asks with the worst attempt at guilelessness Kurt's seen yet.

"Draco," Kurt says.

"I think I'd have remembered if we were talking about Malfoy," Harry says, and props his feet on the coffee table.

Kurt nudges them off. "I hadn't actually gotten that far."

"Well, good. What would you want to talk about Malfoy for, anyway?"

"Now you're just being deliberately obtuse." (At least, Kurt thinks he is.)

Harry groans. "Fine. I can't actually get him off my mind. He's like chewing gum on the bottom of your shoe. Once you step in it, you're never rid of it."

Kurt feels his eyebrows rising as he tries to parse that one. "And have you...stepped in it?" he asks delicately, not quite sure how else to phrase this.

"Er," Harry says, answering Kurt's question rather succinctly, if not eloquently.

"Not recently, I hope," because if that no-cheating spell is fake, Kurt's going to be very annoyed indeed. Um, not that he'd cheat on his husband even if he could, of course. Much. No, of course he wouldn't.

They both spend some time guiltily examining opposite walls of the apartment.

"A few years ago," Harry says eventually. "I practically did step in it. Fell into it, anyway."

"And it didn't work out?"

"I honestly think we would have killed each other by now," Harry says with a wistfulness that suggests he would have died a happy man.

Kurt probably shouldn't find that quite so charming.

"Well," he says, after some cautious re-phrasing in his head, "Were you under a spell?"

"Oh, several, actually," Harry says easily. "I don't think it was a spell that made it happen, though. We've never been able to keep our hands off each other."

Kurt's eyebrows don't seem to be coming down from his hairline any time soon. He resolves to moisturize extra well tonight, maybe buy that new wrinkle treatment he's had his eye on. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kurt asks.

"That Malfoy and I have some serious unresolved issues?" Harry asks.

"Not how I would have phrased it," Kurt says, and then finds himself forced to admit, "but yes."

"I'm thinking what you're thinking," Harry confirms.

 

 

"Have you ever wondered what makes this," Draco makes a vague gesture between himself and Blaine in the bathroom mirror, "so much better than what Potter and Hummel have?"

"I...can't honestly say I've put much thought into it," Blaine admits. And of course he hasn't. "That's not to say this isn't good. I mean, it'd be hard to deny the essential goodness of this thing we've got going on."

Draco resolves, yet again, not to find the babbling charming. He fails utterly. "Thank Merlin I'm here to think for both of us then."

 _'Merlin?'_ Blaine mouths into the mirror.

Draco ignores him. "What makes this so much better is our complete lack of plans for the future," Draco says with conviction.

"Excuse me?"

"Plans," Draco says again. "You and I could part with regrets tomorrow, and we'd never suspect it today."

"Oh, well," Blaine says, "as long as there are regrets."

"No commitment either. Commitment," Draco says, and holds up a hand for emphasis, "is unsexy."

Blaine turns away from the mirror to stare at him, head cocked. "Are you this romantic with all your boyfriends?" he asks eventually.

Draco scowls. "Don't be stupid. I'm irredeemably monogamous, and for the time being, I seem to be stuck with you."

"Romantic," Blaine says and rolls his eyes.

Draco privately admits he deserves that. "Romance is for poofs," Draco says with some amount of conviction.

Blaine continues to stare at him, and Draco realizes his cue to exit before Blaine inevitably points out -

"We kind of are poofs," Blaine says, following Draco into the living room, and sitting to put on his shoes. "I mean, not the word I'd choose to describe my personal homosexuality, but you have to admit, it's accurate."

"I admit no such thing. The subtleties of English are lost on you," Draco says as haughtily as he knows how.

It's rather haughty if he does say so himself.

Blaine makes an obscene and very American gesture in his direction. "And while we're at it," Blaine says in a suspiciously offhanded manner, "the Kurt and Harry thing? For someone who's irredeemably monogamous, you spend a lot of time thinking about someone else's husband."

Draco squints at him, looking for ulterior motive, guile, or even garden variety jealousy.

Blaine stares back at him with equanimity and waits for a reply.

"I may be a little obsessed with Potter," Draco finally admits.

"A little?" Blaine asks.

Draco ignores him and continues. "I consider it a personal failing."

"Why's that?" Blaine shrugs into his coat and holds Draco's for him. It's a small courtesy Draco can't help enjoying. "He seems like a nice guy."

"He is a nice guy," Draco says, imitating Blaine's American accent as best he can. "And that is my problem with him." He sweeps out the door.

Blaine follows him out the door with less sweep, more saunter, and locks it behind them. "I'm a nice guy," he says.

"Not as nice as Potter," Draco says darkly.

 

 

So one thing leads to another, and Blaine's actually really glad he decided months ago not to examine the way Draco's verbal abuse makes him want to throw Draco against the nearest wall and tear his clothes off.

"What's taking so long, Anderson?" Draco pants against his ear.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to wear about a million buttons," Blaine points out. "This outfit is one giant cockblock."

"Fuck you. I look fabulous in it." Draco nips his ear and hauls Blaine's shirt up in back to drag his fingers down his spine. And it feels. So. Good.

"Oh my god, do that again," Blaine groans, dropping his hands from the buttons. If Draco ever loses his job doing, um, whatever is is he does, he's got a fantastic future as a masseuse.

Instead, Draco drags his hands around to the front of Blaine's pants and undoes his belt. "Put your back into it when you fuck me, and I might consider it."

"Who says I'm fucking you?" Blaine demands, and, wow, Draco does not do his dapper gentlemanly side any favors at all. "Maybe I want to be fucked."

Draco's hands still and he looks at Blaine with an arched eyebrow that demands to know 'Seriously? No, really, _seriously_?' "When you have all this on offer?"

Blaine has to admit it's a nice offer. But he does kind of want to, well... He shakes his head. "As long as your self confidence doesn't need a boost or anything," Blaine says.

"Please. I was born with enough to supply three Mu - lifetimes," Draco says and gives his pants a shove. Then he smacks Blaine's hands away and undoes the rest of his buttons, and, honestly, Blaine's not going to complain. His fingers were starting to cramp.

"Seriously," he mutters undoing the (more reasonable) buttons on Draco's shirt, "who wears that many buttons?"

"We're about to have spectacular sex," Draco says (and, hey, at least there's spectacular on the table), "and you're commenting on my sartorial choices?"

"Giant," Blaine reiterates, dragging Draco's shirt down his shoulders and mouthing over the exposed skin, "cockblock," he says into a clavicle.

"Fuck," Draco grinds out, grabbing Blaine's shoulders because his shirt is still trapped around his wrists and he can't reach any further. Blaine resolves to worry later about what it says about him that the whole minor quasi bondage thing is working for him. "Get on with it, Anderson. I'm wearing too many clothes."

Blaine opens his mouth to point out that that's exactly what he's been complaining about but, well, it's true. "You don't say," he says, kneeling to pull Draco's pants and boxers off, tossing them...somewhere. With maybe a little more force than necessary. He takes a considering look at Draco leaning against the door, pale and panting, with his hair in his face and a tremor in one thigh, and decides to leave the shirt on.

He grabs the tail ends of it and backs toward the bed, dragging Draco with him. "Better?"

Draco's eyes narrow, but his pupils are blown wide. That, and he's as hard as Blaine is. "I'll reserve judgment."

"You are so," Blaine says, shoving Draco down onto the mattress and crawling over him, "high," he says, biting a kiss into the skin under Draco's jaw, "maintenance," he finishes, wrapping a hand around Draco's dick and stroking roughly.

Draco answers with a frustrated moan, struggling with the shirt trapping his arms, before dropping down to the bed and throwing a leg over Blaine's shoulder. "Yes, I am," he says, with an almost completely straight face. "Please fuck me now." The tiniest of rueful smiles tugs at his lips.

Blaine laughs and rubs his cheek over the soft skin on the inside of Draco's thigh. "Demanding, too."

"Blaine," Draco says with charming seriousness, "if you don't fuck me soon, I'll be forced to..." he takes a deep breath, "ask very nicely."

Blaine can't stop himself from laughing. "How can I say no when you ask like that?"

"You can't?" Draco suggests hopefully.

Blaine shuffles through the bedside drawer for lube and a condom. "Yeah, you're right." He pauses to kiss Draco, dragging his teeth over his lower lip as he backs away.. "I pretty much can't."

 

 

When Kurt lets go of Harry's lip, it stings and throbs, and Harry can't honestly say he doesn't like the whole stinging and throbbing thing going on with it. He decides not to examine it too closely. Always worked for him before.

Works for him now, with Kurt laying stinging kisses along his shoulder and licking a broad stripe up his neck. "Fucking hell. And to think I thought you'd be..." Harry trails off, realizing Kurt honest to Merlin just growled at him.

"Be what?" Kurt asks, conversationally. And nakedly.

Harry licks his lips, and goes for the old Gryffindor bravery. "A blushing virgin."

"Oh, is that all," Kurt says against his jaw, doing something absolutely obscene with his hips, and really, do men's hips _move_ that way? "It's the face," Kurt says. "I look twelve."

"Don't be silly," Harry answers immediately, in no small part because he's not willing to be that much of a pervert yet. "You look at least fifteen."

Kurt snorts and moves to get off the bed,

Harry hooks an arm around him and hauls him back into his lap. "I'm sorry. You look a stunning nineteen at least. Completely mature and attractive, and not at all like a lost kitten," he says quickly.

Kurt arches an eyebrow at him and shifts until his thighs are neatly bracketing Harry's hips again. A place he likes them very much, thank you. "Kitten?" he asks.

"Um," Harry says. "There is a certain kittenish quality about you. Quite appealing."

Kurt laughs and tries to get off his lap again, and honestly:

"Will you stay put? We're in the middle of something," Harry complains.

"Yes," Kurt agrees, "and if you'll let me get the lube, we'll be in the middle of quite a lot more."

"Oh. Yeah. That'd be nice," Harry admits, feeling a little silly, and holds out a hand. "Accio- " he mumbles the rest into Kurt's palm.

"No," Kurt says.

Harry lifts his eyebrows in inquiry, because, honestly, the lube idea was a good one.

"The last time you _accio_ ed lubricant at me, I had it in my hair for days, Harry. _Days_."

"I might've been a little over-eager," Harry admits when Kurt lets go of his face.

"A little? You summoned the Maximus like it'd save the world."

Harry spares a moment's effort to _not_ think about Horcruxes and grins. "You never know what'll save the world. I've heard grand things about duct tape."


	4. April 2020

 

"Oh, Harry, what are we doing?" Kurt realizes he's being unnecessarily dramatic, in tone and in the arm he's thrown over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

"Having a swim?" Harry asks with the guilelessness that probably could make Kurt fall truly forever in love with him. If not for, well, yes.

Kurt groans. "Were you always this literal and I never noticed?"

"No," Harry says. "I enjoy winding you up and you never noticed."

Kurt glares at him from under his elbow while Harry smiles winningly at him. "I hate you."

"No you don't." Harry stands up and stretches. He spends some time rearranging his towel, and Kurt admits he'll miss the sun protection charms when this is over.

This will be over.

Soon.

Kurt sits up.

"Kurt?"

"Harry," Kurt says, all seriousness now, "what are we doing?"

Harry gives him the kind of long, searching, look that reminds Kurt every time that this man fought and won a war while he, Kurt Hummel, was fighting wars about prom and personal safety for kids like him. Not the entire world. "Satisfying the need we felt as children not to be alone," he finally says.

"I haven't felt that for years," Kurt lies.

"I have," Harry says with honesty that shames him a little. "But that's nothing compared with how I felt when I was five." He lies down again and closes his eyes against the sun.

And Kurt is struck by one of those inexplicable moments of tenderness that always catch him by surprise and leave him a little breathless. He lays a hand on Harry's thigh and strokes the warm skin absently. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Harry smiles but doesn't open his eyes. "You're the solution, not the problem."

"I can't be the permanent solution," Kurt says against his own will.

"No," Harry agrees. "But every solution has a beginning."

Kurt lies there for a while in the sun, thinking about that. "What's your solution's ending?"

"Dunno," Harry says. "I won't get to the end for a while."

And Kurt suspects he's not being entirely honest, because he, for one, is more certain than he's ever been that Blaine is his personal solution's ending, as far as loneliness, love, and need go. He has one of his moments of panic that maybe Blaine doesn't feel the same way anymore.

That the dependability he's come to rely on is only in his head now.

Maybe even that Blaine and Draco are honestly in love.

"Nah," Harry says, and Kurt hates him a little.

"Harry," Kurt says as calmly as he possibly can. "For the love of all that is holy, would you _please stop reading my mind_?"

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Harry closes his eyes again.

"Harry?" Kurt asks a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever - ?"

"He's completely besotted with you."

Kurt bites his lips so he won't grin. "Well, of course. I am quite a catch."

 

 

"Honestly, Blaine," Draco says and tries with truly Herculean effort not to roll his eyes, "I don't _mind_."

"I called you _Kurt_ ," Blaine says, and actually looks as if he's five seconds away from literal self-flagellation.

Draco sighs. "Yes, and I told you I really don't care." He's reasonably sure this will send Blaine into a spiral of wondering if Draco cares about him at all, and the thought just makes him tired, so he arrests it before it can form behind those admittedly attractive puppy eyes. "Look, Blaine. We both know what this is. We like each other. We're probably even quite good friends at this stage. But if Potter and Hummel weren't married to each other, the likelihood of our getting together would be less than zero. We know this. We've always known this."

"I just - " Blaine's hands open and close as if he's trying to physically grasp the point. Draco firmly prevents himself from finding this endearing. "I just feel like we should be moving on."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why on earth should we move on?"

"They're _married_."

"Yes. So?"

"And I know Kurt. He won't cheat."

Draco raises hie eyebrows. He could always tell Blaine there's a spell preventing either of them from cheating (with dire consequences) and then obliviate him. He could.

It would be easy.

And Potter would have his hide.

Draco deflates. "Look. They won't cheat. Neither of them will. Potter's so honorable it literally makes me ill if I think about it for too long. But, and I hate to burst your balloon of optimism on this point, marriage is not necessarily forever."

"It's supposed to be."

"Pfft," Draco says, and doesn't say anything about his own personal ex-wife back in England. The will, after all, only stipulated that he get married. It didn't specify for how long. "Tell that to Elizabeth Taylor."

"Seriously, Elizabeth Taylor? That's who you come up with?"

"You prefer Rock Hudson?" Draco asks, feeling just the tiniest bit proud of his grasp of Muggle cinema.

Blaine clearly thinks about it. "Well, I do. But, no, you're probably right. Kurt would appreciate the Elizabeth Taylor thing."

"It'll all be over by their first anniversary," Draco says, with unassailable confidence. Mostly. Be ignores the little voice suggesting it might well be forever.

That would just be ridiculous.

Potter and Hummel's 'forever' will last a year and a day.

"I feel like a bad guy hoping you're right."

Draco's not sure what it is that seems to be attracting him to chronic do-gooders. "You'll get used to it," he says. "It's not hard."

"What isn't?"

"Being the bad guy."

Blaine looks at Draco unreadably then sighs and looks away. "What are we going to do if they don't break up after a year?"

Draco shrugs. "Help them along, of course."

"I - look, I want to be with Kurt so badly I ache," Blaine says with enough honesty to make Draco flinch. "But I can't hurt him. I can't hurt _them_. Not if their marriage is something they want."

Draco purses his lips, and since he's unwilling to examine that sting he feels in his chest, he says, "Good thing one of us is accustomed to being the bad guy, then."

 

 

It occurs to Blaine, not for the first time, that Draco and Santana would either love each other or kill each other within the first hour. He refuses to think too deeply into what that says about him and his relationship to both of them. "I can't believe you're honestly planning this," he says.

He also can't believe he hasn't left Draco over his plotting, but there's something about Draco that makes nefarious plans seem...normal. Possibly even safe, like Draco wouldn't actually carry it out. No matter how detailed it gets. 

If he's completely honest with himself, he feels like he's in one of those fan fics where the hero and the super villain have an irresistible yet unhealthy attraction to each other.

"I told you I was planning to plan it," Draco says. "Merlin knows, someone has to be prepared in the face of Potter's ineptness."

"Um," Blaine says, momentarily blown away. (Which happens a lot around Draco, too.) "I'm not sure that'll be the reason if they decide to stay together."

"Please." Draco rolls his eyes, crosses out a line, and scribbles a new line beneath it. "That's always the reason with Potter. He's lucky he has me looking out for him."

Blaine opens his mouth, realizes he has no idea at all how to respond to that, and closes it. He drops an impulsive kiss on the back of Draco's neck, because apparently, he can't avoid thinking Draco's adorable, even when he is being kind of vaguely, possibly, evil. "I'll just be in the kitchen," he says, and flees.

Which is how he ends up crouched in the pantry with his cell phone and the volume turned way down.

"Hullo?"

"Harry?"

"Blaine?"

"Is Kurt there?"

"Uh, no," Harry says like a man who doesn't understand why Blaine isn't calling Kurt's phone.

"Oh, thank god," Blaine says.

"Right," Harry says, sounding no less enlightened.

"I mean, I was calling you. And I don't want to worry Kurt." Blaine licks his lips. "It's Draco."

"Fuck. What's wrong?" The confusion is utterly gone from Harry's voice. There's a sound of footsteps and a door closing while Blaine takes a deep and fortifying breath and reminds himself at least he's not alone in knowing Draco's proclivities for getting into trouble.

He supposes he wouldn't be, at that.

"Nothing like that," Blaine says, without the first clue what 'that' is other than something Draco might need rescuing from. Likely himself.

"Merlin," Harry breathes. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry," Blaine says. "Um, slight tendency toward the overdramatic. It's a gay thing."

"Um," Harry says, sounding a lot like he has no idea what to say to that.

So Blaine carries on. "He's plotting the downfall of your marriage."

"Oh, is that all." The door opens again, and there are more footsteps.

"I think he's actually serious about this, Harry."

"Of course he is." Harry says, and apparently opens the refrigerator. "He wouldn't know what to do with himself if he wasn't crafting an elaborate plot to take over or overthrow _something_." He sounds almost happy about it.

And that...okay, that's actually kind of pissing Blaine off. "What is wrong with you people?" he demands before he can think better of it.

"Er, you'll need to be more specific," Harry says carefully.

"Listen," Blaine says, maybe more sharply than he usually would, but he's well beyond caring. "If you don't give a crap about Kurt, why did you marry him?"

"Whoa, wait. Who said I didn't care?"

"You don't seem to care about being married to him!"

"I..." Harry trails off into a sigh.

"Is this some kind of stupid game everyone is in on but me and Kurt?"

"Kurt knows," Harry says quietly.

It's like being slapped. "No. He wouldn't not tell me." He wouldn't. This is Kurt. Even if they broke up because...because... Blaine winces and rubs his forehead. Because of the thing that made them decide to be friends instead of boyfriends, his mind supplies before pirouetting sideways and leaving Blaine saying, "Kurt's my best friend now. He wouldn't play with me like this."

Springs creak on the other end of the line. "It's not his fault. Um, there's a geas."

Not what Blaine was expecting. "What do geese have to do with it?"

"Geas. Compulsion. Vow. Whatever. Basically, he can't talk about it." Harry doesn't sound at all condescending, so it's hard to stay angry at him.

Blaine may be out of practice, but he tries anyway. "We talk about everything."

"No," Harry says, and over Blaine's objection: "He really can't."

Blaine doesn't remember any of the conversation after that. But it was very reassuring.

At least, he thinks it was.

 

 

 

Harry's glad he didn't tell Blaine Kurt's plotting right along with Draco. And not just because he isn't supposed to know.

It's not his fault they're both terrible at sneaking around and keeping secrets.

It's endearing.

It's charming.

It's flattering the care they're putting into seeing he's not hurt (and he feels like a bit of a prat since he hadn't actually been putting all that much thought into it, personally.)

"That reminds me," Kurt's saying down the phone. "This year and a day. Is the day a full day? 24 hours? Just until - until sunset, alright." Kurt pauses, tapping his pen on the table. "I suppose a moonlit ferry ride would be too cliche?"

Harry can't hear Draco, but he's pretty sure Draco just said something about how utterly bourgeois he finds the entire idea.

Kurt huffs. "Well, I think it's romantic."

Harry smiles to himself because he also knows Draco's only being an ass because he gets seasick in as much as a rowboat.

"Fine. I'll concede the romance inherent in a view like that, but is it open air?" Kurt traps the tip of his pen between his lips, and Harry admits it'd take a stronger man than him for that scene not to do things to him. "Oh, that sounds perfect. And there is no _way_ it'll be available in the middle of wedding season. Not at this late a date."

Harry mentally answers for Draco: _"Don't be so pessimistic, Hummel. I'm sure they'll find an opening for us."_

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I disapprove strongly of pushing some poor bride out of her perfect wedding reception location." He sighs. "And I wouldn't dream of stopping you, no. What _does_ Blaine see in you?" Kurt holds up a hand too quickly for Draco to have time to answer. "Aside from your many sexual charms."

Harry laughs along with Kurt.

"Well, I'm sure it's not _nothing_. But you have to admit that his attraction to pure unadulterated evil is a little surprising."

In Harry's mind, Draco admonishes Kurt to give Blaine some credit for his walk on the dark side.

"As long as I get him back in one piece. Now. Food. What sort of wine list does this place have?"

It's actually kind of adorable in an admittedly very, very scary way.

Harry feels a little bad for Blaine. He seems to be the only one of the four of them who isn't plotting at all.


	5. June 2020

It was a lovely divorce. The flowers were beautiful, the weather was perfect, and the divorcees were absolutely radiant.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Kurt says, Harry's hands in his own. "It's been lovely."

"But thank Merlin, it's over," Harry says before Kurt can, endearing himself to Kurt just a little more, and making the entire thing feel more strange.

He grips Harry's hands. "But one more thing."

"Yeah?"

Kurt lowers his voice, conscious of Blaine's presence in the building. "Obliviate me, and I will haunt you for the rest of your days."

Harry hesitates.

"Don't you _dare_."

Harry deflates. "It'd be easier on you if I did, y'know. Blaine, too."

Kurt glances at the door, wishing Blaine was here already so they could get on with this. "I want to remember this." And here comes the part he doesn't want Harry to take the wrong way: "And how much it sucked."

"Oh, thanks for that!"

Kurt narrows his eyes. "You know exactly what I mean. It wasn't so bad at first, and wasn't always bad, I mean, there were a few particularly spectacular moments." He can feel himself blushing, because the spectacular moments were _spectacular_ , but, "But they weren't with Blaine."

"And you want them to have been."

Kurt shrugs. He can't read Harry, but he's gotten used to that over the past year. "You've been a wonderful friend," he says instead.

"But you can't wait to get into Blaine's trousers."

"Harry!"

"What? I can't wait to get into Draco's. Admittedly, it'll take a bit more work. Flowers, chocolates. Maybe a hex or three," Harry continues, and Kurt's not even sure if he's serious. He very well might be.

"Is this part of the spell?" he asks, feeling a little giddy.

"Is what part?"

"This - " Kurt makes an expansive gesture in an attempt to indicate how free-flowing his thoughts about Blaine are now. "It's like as soon as I woke up this morning, I couldn't stop thinking about Blaine."

"Sounds like love."

"I already knew he's my one true love," Kurt says breathlessly and then stops, because it's utterly true. "But I distinctly recall there was a time, possibly as recently as last night, when I could think of things that aren't Blaine."

Harry nods as if he's oblivious to Kurt's earth-shaking epiphany. "Probably the spell wearing off then."

Something in his casual tone brings Kurt back to himself. "You don't know?"

"Not really. I mean, it's an old spell. Er, apparently."

"I repeat: you don't know?"

"Hermione researched it...a bit." Harry rubs the back of his head. "She didn't find much."

Kurt drops his face into his hands. "I reiterate: thank god it's almost over."

The closer it gets to sunset, the more aware Kurt is of the fact that he wants Blaine so badly his skin itches.

It terrifies him a little.

It terrifies him a lot when he can swear he _feels_ Blaine enter the room. "Excuse me," he says vaguely to Harry. "I have something I need to be..." He's not sure he finished that sentence within Harry's range of hearing because the sun is at that golden angle that makes Blaine glow.

"Hi," Blaine says, breathless, when Kurt gets there.

"Well, hello, yourself, handsome," Kurt says from that bottomless reservoir of words that is his brain.

"Better be careful with that." Blaine licks his lips, staying an arm's length away from Kurt. "It's not sunset yet."

Kurt would be embarrassed at the groan that bubbles up from his throat, but there's only Blaine to hear, so he's not. "It's almost sunset."

Blaine holds up his phone. "I have my alarm set."

"So the second it's officially sunset...?"

"I am so kissing you."

Kurt closes his eyes, because he's had time to imagine that kiss in every permutation under the sun.

He's absolutely certain the reality will blow every imaginary kiss away.

 

 

 

Draco wants Harry so badly his skin crawls with it, and Harry couldn't seem to care less. "I know what you're doing, Potter," he says under his breath, coming to stand side by side with Harry, watching the sun sink toward the horizon.

"Oh? What's that?" Harry doesn't look at him.

"Playing hard to get, that's what." Draco does not, in any way, shape, or form, wish with all his might that Harry would look at him. "I'm here to tell you it isn't working."

"Is that right?"

"That's right." Draco takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Not even a little."

"All right, then." Harry tucks his hands in his pockets.

Harry's eyes are _not_ an intriguing fiery green in the near-sunset light. Or, if they are, Draco is (determinedly) not noticing.

"Suppose," Harry says after a moment, "hypothetically, mind you, that I had plans for the moment the sun set."

"Please, Potter. You couldn't plan your way out of a shoe box," Draco says, firmly ignoring the whole 'saved the world' bit. It doesn't do to inflate a hero's ego.

"Suppose," Harry says, as if Draco hadn't spoken, thus annoying Draco less than Draco feels he should, "suppose that plan involved a bit of ravishment."

"And who would ravish a prat like you?" Draco sniffs.

"Oh. I thought I'd change it up a bit," Harry admits. "Do some ravishing myself."

It takes every ounce of will Draco has not to glance Harry's way to see if Harry is looking at him. He's not proud when his voice comes out higher than usual, "Is that right?"

"Yeah." Harry nods, and since Draco is not looking at his face, he sees Harry's fingers flexing restlessly in the pockets of his (hideous) baggy blue jeans. "That's right. Hope you won't mind."

"Why should I mind?" Draco demands, perhaps too quickly.

"Well," Harry says, turning to face him and waiting until Draco drags his eyes upwards, "I know how particular you are about not mussing your hair. And a bit of mussing is a must when it comes to ravishment."

Draco swallows. Hard. " _Bugger_ my hair."

"Was that a yes?" Harry asks with far too much innocence.

Draco narrows his eyes. "That was a threat to your manhood if you don't follow through. That's what it was."

 

 

Blaine has to stay an arm's length away from Kurt until the sun goes down, because he's positive that if Kurt's within reach, Blaine will be doing the reaching. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he says instead.

Kurt swallows hard enough that Blaine can see every movement of his throat. "I do. Now." Kurt lifts a shaky hand toward him, changes its direction, and runs it through his hair.

Actually _runs it through his hair_.

Blaine has never seen Kurt do that, and it's kind of scary. So, what's better than a little more scary? He takes a fortifying breath and says, "Spell's wearing off, then, is it?"

He can feel Kurt staring at him. "Blaine..."

Blaine shrugs. "Harry told me. It was the geese." He's still not completely sure what geese have to do with it all, but he trusts Harry. He doesn't actually know why he trusts Harry, but he's going with his gut on this one.

Kurt makes a frustrated noise. "I can't even _say_ it until the sun goes down!"

Blaine licks his lips. "Five minutes."

"That's five minutes too long," Kurt snaps, and begins to pace. "I can't believe I wasted an entire year I could have spent with you."

While the sentiment warms Blaine's heart, he suspects one of them has to be practical here. "As I understand it, you didn't have much choice," he points out. And then, not at all passive-aggressively (or so he tells himself), he adds: "You didn't want to be with me before that, either."

A shudder runs through Kurt, and Blaine regrets saying it as soon as he sees its effects on Kurt's face. "I was so stupid, Blaine. Stupid, and scared, and selfish, and you had one more year at NYADA - and I never stopped loving you. Ever."

"You had an amazing chance, Kurt. Living your dream in London under Vivienne Fucking Westwood, Kurt." It pains Blaine to admit it, but, "I don't know if I can say I would have turned it down."

"I should have," Kurt says.

"Vivienne Westwood," Blaine says.

Kurt drops his face into his hands and takes a harsh breath. "Okay. You're right. Oh my god, why is it not sunset, yet?"

The truth is, he's scaring Blaine a little, and Blaine wonders privately if all the emotion Kurt's suppressed all year, or maybe for the last two and a half, is coming back to him at once. He only feels a little guilty for wondering if that means they're going to have the world's most amazing getting back together sex once they're someplace private. (He hopes so.) "I didn't take astronomy, but I think it has something to do with mass. And gravity. And..." Blaine really is at a loss. He majored in musical theater. "Stuff," he finishes lamely.

Kurt whirls around, stops himself, and brings his hands together to wring. "I feel like I'm having a heart attack. If I have a heart attack before I can kiss you again, Blaine Anderson, I swear, I'm killing Harry."

"Um," Blaine says, because, as much as he really _really_ wants to be kissing Kurt right now, he thinks that's a little over the top.

"How long?"

"Two minutes."

"Fuck," Kurt says, and Kurt never swears. "Fuck," he says again.

Okay, almost never.

Kurt's agitation is starting to make Blaine nervous, and he never expected to have performance anxiety at a time like this, but his palms are sweating, and his breathing is shallow, and he actually feels dizzy, and blurts, "Marry me!" He'd had this whole plan to get everyone back together and recreate the original proposal, but he just doesn't have time. He can't wait. He can barely think, this time. He just needs to be with Kurt again, forever this time.

" _Yes_ ," Kurt says with an intensity Blaine can feel, the instant the sun sinks below the horizon. And he's not sure who moved before their lips slam together in a way that actually kind of hurts a little (if he cared about that kind of thing, which he absolutely does not). "Yes. Yes," Kurt mumbles against his lips, all wetness, and teeth, and a tongue that sweeps its way past Blaine's lips to curl possessively against his palate. Kurt draws back with a shiver, eyes dark and wide, and his fingers clutching Blaine close to him.

Blaine can't help but say, "Right now. Marry me right now."

Kurt nods quickly, and his voice only wavers a little when he says, "Took you long enough."

"I've only had fifteen seconds since I _could_ ask," Blaine points out, not unreasonably, he thinks.

"Shut up," Kurt says, walking him backwards with a hold on his bow tie until Blaine's pressed against the wall forgetting to breathe. "Stop being logical, and marry me already."

 

 

"No," Severus is saying, in a tone meant to strike terror into the hearts of generations of students.

Harry thinks he can be allowed a certain amount of private amusement that it doesn't have any discernible effect on Blaine whatsoever.

"Come on. Five minutes, and we're out of your hair forever."

"You're Muggles." Severus makes a shooing gesture. "Go get Muggle married."

"That's racist," Blaine says, and then frowns and turns to Kurt. "Unless it's classist."

"I think it's abilityist," Kurt says, holding Blaine's arm and looking Severus in the eye as if he has every right to. 

"For Merlin's sake," Severus is muttering, looking around. Harry's pretty sure he's looking for an escape, so, naturally, Harry doesn't give him one.

"Oh, come on, Severus." Harry invites himself over and aims his best winsome (annoying) hero smile at Severus. "What's the harm?"

"It won't even be legal for them. I'm fairly certain Muggles need papers for this kind of thing," Severus says with a sneer that says exactly what he thinks about the Muggle fascination with bits of paper.

"But it'll be binding," Blaine says, and Harry tries very hard not to look guilty when Severus aims a narrow-eyed stare at him. He watches Kurt stare at Blaine in wonder instead. "I'm not letting you go again," Blaine says. "So, um, if you're going to run, this would be the time."

"Do you imbeciles have even the most vague notion of the kind of trouble I could be in if I placed a binding marriage contract on a pair of Muggles?" Severus intones, even though Harry knows for a fact that the chances of Severus being caught are ridiculously low.

"No," Blaine admits. "I'm kind of skating by on the hope that you've got an inner romantic."

Harry winces.

And Severus....laughs? "Very well," he says, and it's Harry's turn to stare at him. He only gets a raised eyebrow for his troubles, and that's not exactly very fair coming from a man who just upended half of Harry's understanding of the world in two words. "Potter, I assume you'll witness? When you're done with your imitation of a particularly dim fish, that is."

Harry snaps his jaw closed. "Um, yes. I'd be delighted. Congratulations to both of you," he says quickly.

"Allow me fifteen minutes to brew the potion," Severus says, looking the two of them up and down. "But first."

"Ow!"

"Hey!"

"Don't be infants," Severus says, sweeping past, but not before Harry catches a glimpse of a smile on his face. "It's only hair."

"Are we sure about this?" Blaine asks Kurt, rubbing his head.

"Blaine. Honey. Sweetie. He could pull hair from way more painful places, and I would still be one hundred percent behind this plan."

Harry puts a hand on each of their shoulders, because, honestly, he's not sure they'd realize he's there otherwise. "You don't really have anything to worry about. He'll take the piss, but you can trust him. Absolutely."

"I know," Kurt says. "You do."

"Yeah, well, I've got good reason to."

"The whole saving the world thing?" Blaine asks, earning him a startled look from Kurt.

"Right," Harry agrees quickly, before Kurt can open any possible line of questioning about what he let Blaine in on, how, or why. "I'll just - I need to speak with Draco," he says, and excuses himself as quickly as possible.

It's not even a lie.

"Well, Potter," Draco says with artful casualness. "It's after sunset." As if he hasn't been stealing glances at Harry since the sun got within a finger's width of the horizon."

"So it is," Harry agrees, leaning next to him.

"I believe I was promised ravishment," Draco says, glancing at him sidelong.

"Well, 'promised' might be too strong a word," Harry says, just to wind Draco up. He may be in love, but some things weren't meant to be changed.

"Ravish me, or I'll hex your balls," Draco says with utmost politeness.

"When you put it like that, how could I refuse?"

"At great personal risk?" Draco asks, arching an eyebrow.

Harry snorts. "You know, there's something disturbed about this relationship."

"From the start," Draco agrees contentedly, edging closer until they're pressed together from thigh to shoulder.

It's not premeditated when Harry drops his head to Draco's shoulder.

And it's probably not premeditated when Draco wraps an arm around Harry (though it's nice).

"So," Draco says, "ravishment?"

"On the agenda," Harry promises him. He nods toward Kurt and Blaine. "Got a marriage to witness first."

"Sodding romantics," Draco mutters.

"That's right," Harry agrees contentedly.

Draco mutters something vague and monosyllabic.

"Lots of ravishment," Harry promises. "Later."

"I expect a thorough job," Draco informs him.

"The thoroughest," Harry says solemnly.

"Fuck," Draco sighs.

"That, too."

 

 

 

"That was weird," Blaine says, head in Kurt's lap, eyes closed, face the picture of peace. Kurt knows exactly how he feels. "It was weird, right?"

"It was weird," Kurt agrees. "It was definitely an unexpected detour to our lives."

"What are we going to tell everyone when we get home?"

It's a fair question. "That Harry and I were young, stupid, and in love, but true love won out?" It sounds terribly cheesy when he puts it like that out loud.

"That's pretty cheesy," Blaine says, making Kurt love him a little more. (And hate him a bit, too). "Can we embellish the part where I won you back?"

"There's not much to embellish." How does a person embellish someone blurting out 'Marry me! Right now!' in the heat of sexual repression? And it was in the heat of sexual repression, and, oh god. "You still mean it, don't you?"

"What?" Blaine looks genuinely, adorably confused, before recognition dawns on him. "Of course I meant it. I mean, I'd better have meant it. I don't think Severus fools around."

"I don't know," Kurt says, fighting back a gag at the memory. "I'm not completely convinced that potion wasn't a practical joke."

"He did seem to enjoy your nausea too much," Blaine admits.

"Ugh," Kurt says, with feeling. "Don't even say nausea. If I think too hard, I can still taste it."

"Mine tasted like overcooked broccoli," Blaine says with a shrug. "It wasn't great, but I've eaten worse."

"Why did you get overcooked broccoli? I don't even have a _word_ for what mine tasted like." Kurt closes his eyes, but it doesn't help; it just seals him in with his nausea. He gives up, opens them, and sighs at Blaine.

"Would you have taken the potion if you'd known?" Blaine asks, offhand. Except it's the kind of offhand with a lot of vulnerability underneath.

"For you? I will drink even the foulest option known to wizard kind if it means going on to lead a long and happy life with you at my side." He closes his eyes again. "In New York."

 

 

When they wake up in New York in a fashionable apartment in the Village, with morning sun and a well-mannered Saluki ensconced on the couch, neither of them thinks to question it.

And they kinda live happily ever after, even though Blaine never willingly eats broccoli again.

 

 

 


End file.
